The setting sun painted the sky vermillion as it sunk behind the towering pines in the distance. Delta City lay “just around the bend” according to the crude sign posted along the wayside. Mercury was relieved to see it too, for the last few days he had convinced himself that the merchant in Little Rock was lying about their being a city in these parts. The near unrecognizable trail he had started out on gradually became more traveled and discernible as he struck out deeper into the wild which was the first give-a-way of civilization. He cornered the apex of the bend and was bombarded by the aroma of smoky meat wafting through the air. His empty belly churned painfully and growled. There had been little food to scavenge on the way through the wilderness leading to Delta City. Mercury planned on hunting for his sustenance, but had no luck. As a matter of fact, he didn’t see anything at all on the way there.
As with most organized communities, there were sentries posted at the entrance to the city. They were startled to see Mercury trudging towards them, gun above head. That was a lesson he had learned long ago, if you have a gun and approach a city’s sentries without it in plain view things can get ugly fast. The sentries leveled their hunting rifles at Mercury from behind their makeshift firing positions on either side of the entrance.
One shouted with a heavy, southern accent, “Hey you. State your purpose or turn back. We don‘t like strangers wandering our woods. We been watching you since you crossed Chickasaw Creek. Seem pretty familiar with that rifle there.”
“I’m just here looking for work. I don’t want any trouble.” Mercury shouted back. It was the phrase that he used every time he had to go through city sentries.
“Just what kind of ‘work’ are you lookin’ for all the way out here?” the guard inquired.
“Any kind.” Mercury shouted back becoming irritated. He knew already that it was useless.
The guard started again, “Well sir, we ain’t got no more work available. Just turn around and go back the way you came.”
The smell of smoked meat still hung in the air. Mercury knew he was weak from hunger. The nine day’s march from Little Rock to here with only a few handfuls of dried soybeans to eat had worn on him. He feebly yelled back, “I’m going to approach you now. Don’t shoot, I want to trade.” He knew damn well trade meant bribe.
The guards scrutinized him, but let him through with little hassle after obtaining a box of matches, a small ball of string, two pieces of clothe, and a porno magazine through “trading”. Mercury wasn’t too upset at the box of matches being taken, he usually lit fires with the flint and steel set he had in his pocket, but the porno mag was one of his most valuable items for trade. He had hoped to use it to get a better jacket or a couple of blankets. With all that the guards had taken, he’d be lucky if he could trade for enough supplies to make it back from where he came. He had to relinquish his rifle as well, but that was standard operating procedure for organized cities. It was usually held in the armory or mayor’s office for the remainder of the visitor’s stay as a safety precaution. He was allowed to keep his ammunition for trading though.
The city itself was completely built from scraps and wood. Delta City had been created after the apocalypse from scratch. It started with a tribe of survivors wanting to eek out an existence on the Big River, but soon enough people from the surrounding counties heard about it and wanted to move. Delta City became something of a boom town after the apocalypse, mostly due to the drug, Delta Blue, that was manufactured just out of town, and its high rate of addiction. The community traditionally viewed visitors as suspect and never openly welcomed an outsider. And that’s just what Mercury was. An outsider.
There were a several people sitting outside of their shacks eyeing Mercury with suspicion and contempt as he passed by. He passed several store fronts as he wandered down the main boulevard including a fur exchange, a spice dealer, and a jailhouse. Mercury walked deeper into the city as a nighttime fog settled. The glow of flickering kerosene lamps hung from porches lit his way and the ambient murmur of residents died away. It became very quiet. Mercury always enjoyed listening to the vacancy nighttime afforded. Many a night he would wander from his camp looking for a field to lie in. He would watch and listen to the celestial bodies--looking up at them, wondering if anyone was looking back and if it even mattered if there was.
The silent of the night was broken by the echoing twangs from a guitar. The melody was slow, driving, and sad. Mercury wandered closer, following the sound. A husky voice spoke up and began to sing.
“I-I-I-I-I got them Delta Blues. L-o-o-ord only knows its true. Everyday I wake up, coughin’ in my hand. Everyday I wake up, ‘notha coffin in the land. I got them Delta Blues. L-o-o-o-o-o-ord only knows its true.”
Mercury rounded the corner and saw the man who was singing on the porch of a shack. He was a thin, old man in bibs with a dirty brimmed hat that cast his eyes in shadow. The man stopped playing as Mercury approached him.
“Well, you must be one lost soul if I’ve ever seen one,” the man said. He kept his head down, but extended a hand to Mercury. “I‘m the Voice of the Delta.”
Mercury wearily shook his hand. “I’m not lost. I came here on my own accord. I’m looking for an inn to stay the night. Its getting colder by the minute out here.”
“Well mister, you oughta get the heck out of here as fast as you can. Once you catch the Delta Blues, you’ll never get out again.” the man paused for a moment, reflecting, then he continued, “I’d say the best inn Delta City has to offer is just around the block. Its called the Muddy Waters Wayside.” Mercury nodded and began to walk away, but the man reached out and caught the tail of his jacket. Mercury turned around startled.
The man was smiling from ear to ear, shaking his head. “I wish you luck on finding whatever you came here lookin’ for. And I wish you luck on getting’ out of here too. But remember, luck don’t mean a lick without faith.”
Mercury nodded slowly. The ragged elderly man finally looked up and met Mercury with his eyes. The moonlight reflected off the pale cataracts in the old man’s eyes and Mercury stared back, mouth agape. The Voice of the Delta broke the gaze and went back to strumming the guitar. Mercury could hear him as he approached the Muddy Waters Wayside.
“The river runs wild, and the land does too. No-o-o-o-owhere to turn lordy, but up to you. I got them Delta Blues, Lo-o-o-o-rd only knows its true.”
The Delta Blues
The setting sun painted the sky vermillion as it sunk behind the towering pines in the distance. Delta City lay “just around the bend” according to the crude sign posted along the wayside. Mercury was relieved to see it too, for the last few days he had convinced himself that the merchant in Little Rock was lying about their being a city in these parts. The near unrecognizable trail he had started out on gradually became more traveled and discernible as he struck out deeper into the wild which was the first give-a-way of civilization. He cornered the apex of the bend and was bombarded by the aroma of smoky meat wafting through the air. His empty belly churned painfully and growled. There had been little food to scavenge on the way through the wilderness leading to Delta City. Mercury planned on hunting for his sustenance, but had no luck. As a matter of fact, he didn’t see anything at all on the way there.
As with most organized communities, there were sentries posted at the entrance to the city. They were startled to see Mercury trudging towards them, gun above head. That was a lesson he had learned long ago, if you have a gun and approach a city’s sentries without it in plain view things can get ugly fast. The sentries leveled their hunting rifles at Mercury from behind their makeshift firing positions on either side of the entrance.
One shouted with a heavy, southern accent, “Hey you. State your purpose or turn back. We don‘t like strangers wandering our woods. We been watching you since you crossed Chickasaw Creek. Seem pretty familiar with that rifle there.”
“I’m just here looking for work. I don’t want any trouble.” Mercury shouted back. It was the phrase that he used every time he had to go through city sentries.
“Just what kind of ‘work’ are you lookin’ for all the way out here?” the guard inquired.
“Any kind.” Mercury shouted back becoming irritated. He knew already that it was useless.
The guard started again, “Well sir, we ain’t got no more work available. Just turn around and go back the way you came.”
The smell of smoked meat still hung in the air. Mercury knew he was weak from hunger. The nine day’s march from Little Rock to here with only a few handfuls of dried soybeans to eat had worn on him. He feebly yelled back, “I’m going to approach you now. Don’t shoot, I want to trade.” He knew damn well trade meant bribe.
The guards scrutinized him, but let him through with little hassle after obtaining a box of matches, a small ball of string, two pieces of clothe, and a porno magazine through “trading”. Mercury wasn’t too upset at the box of matches being taken, he usually lit fires with the flint and steel set he had in his pocket, but the porno mag was one of his most valuable items for trade. He had hoped to use it to get a better jacket or a couple of blankets. With all that the guards had taken, he’d be lucky if he could trade for enough supplies to make it back from where he came. He had to relinquish his rifle as well, but that was standard operating procedure for organized cities. It was usually held in the armory or mayor’s office for the remainder of the visitor’s stay as a safety precaution. He was allowed to keep his ammunition for trading though.
The city itself was completely built from scraps and wood. Delta City had been created after the apocalypse from scratch. It started with a tribe of survivors wanting to eek out an existence on the Big River, but soon enough people from the surrounding counties heard about it and wanted to move. Delta City became something of a boom town after the apocalypse, mostly due to the drug, Delta Blue, that was manufactured just out of town, and its high rate of addiction. The community traditionally viewed visitors as suspect and never openly welcomed an outsider. And that’s just what Mercury was. An outsider.
There were a several people sitting outside of their shacks eyeing Mercury with suspicion and contempt as he passed by. He passed several store fronts as he wandered down the main boulevard including a fur exchange, a spice dealer, and a jailhouse. Mercury walked deeper into the city as a nighttime fog settled. The glow of flickering kerosene lamps hung from porches lit his way and the ambient murmur of residents died away. It became very quiet. Mercury always enjoyed listening to the vacancy nighttime afforded. Many a night he would wander from his camp looking for a field to lie in. He would watch and listen to the celestial bodies--looking up at them, wondering if anyone was looking back and if it even mattered if there was.
The silent of the night was broken by the echoing twangs from a guitar. The melody was slow, driving, and sad. Mercury wandered closer, following the sound. A husky voice spoke up and began to sing.
“I-I-I-I-I got them Delta Blues. L-o-o-ord only knows its true. Everyday I wake up, coughin’ in my hand. Everyday I wake up, ‘notha coffin in the land. I got them Delta Blues. L-o-o-o-o-o-ord only knows its true.”
Mercury rounded the corner and saw the man who was singing on the porch of a shack. He was a thin, old man in bibs with a dirty brimmed hat that cast his eyes in shadow. The man stopped playing as Mercury approached him.
“Well, you must be one lost soul if I’ve ever seen one,” the man said. He kept his head down, but extended a hand to Mercury. “I‘m the Voice of the Delta.”
Mercury wearily shook his hand. “I’m not lost. I came here on my own accord. I’m looking for an inn to stay the night. Its getting colder by the minute out here.”
“Well mister, you oughta get the heck out of here as fast as you can. Once you catch the Delta Blues, you’ll never get out again.” the man paused for a moment, reflecting, then he continued, “I’d say the best inn Delta City has to offer is just around the block. Its called the Muddy Waters Wayside.” Mercury nodded and began to walk away, but the man reached out and caught the tail of his jacket. Mercury turned around startled.
The man was smiling from ear to ear, shaking his head. “I wish you luck on finding whatever you came here lookin’ for. And I wish you luck on getting’ out of here too. But remember, luck don’t mean a lick without faith.”
Mercury nodded slowly. The ragged elderly man finally looked up and met Mercury with his eyes. The moonlight reflected off the pale cataracts in the old man’s eyes and Mercury stared back, mouth agape. The Voice of the Delta broke the gaze and went back to strumming the guitar. Mercury could hear him as he approached the Muddy Waters Wayside.
“The river runs wild, and the land does too. No-o-o-o-owhere to turn lordy, but up to you. I got them Delta Blues, Lo-o-o-o-rd only knows its true.”